Uncannily Engaged
by succubus blues
Summary: Grace is at death's doorsteps. She has one last wish, though, before passing away: seeing Christian married. But not married to anyone. No. She has one especial lady in mind. Christian isn't thrilled with it given the fact he thinks Ana is a gold-digger who's after his fortune. Will he be able to see past his own prejudices or will he ruin a possibly happy-ending for himself?
1. Outraging Propositions

**Warning:** This story will contain strong language and mature contents. Also, Christian will be an asshole in the beginning but he will eventually redeem himself with a little time and faith.

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**1.**

**Outraging Propositions**

Christian Grey crumpled the piece of paper that was tightly grasped in his hand. If his anger was to be bestowed upon the world, a new biblical flood would descend from the skies right about now. He couldn't even see straight, such was his rage, and the lowly, greasy diner in his front served for nothing but to torment him further.

How could his mother demand such unbelievably ludicrous _thing_?

If she was not at death's gates, he would have given Grace a piece of his mind – or simply dismiss her proposition with an outraged and justified argument – but given her weak state, and despite what everyone believed him capable off, Christian would never had the heart to turn down his mother last wish.

And the wish, of all insanely ridiculous wishes, was to see her youngest son married. But not to anyone. No. Even that had been perfectly planned, effectively stripping Christian of all his power and will.

Out of the lot of well-groomed, classy, elegant and sophisticated women Grace could have taken her pick from, she decided an orphan girl – daughter of her long lost friend – would make the perfect match. Even though he racked his brain over and over, he couldn't fathom the motivations behind his own mother. Except that perhaps, somehow, that chosen bride had manipulated Grace into fixing this marriage up.

Yes, it _had_ to be that.

Whoever this girl was, she had to be a gold-digger that managed to contact Grace after all these years and convinced her she was worthy of his name. Of his empire. Of his wealth. Of his power. Of _him_.

Christian snorted. Well, she wasn't and she would never be.

He didn't compact with scheming, greedy women who went above and beyond to obtain status and richness. If anything, it just made him hate her all the more – even though he knew nothing about her. He was only here, in her miserable workplace to unleash his fury, and then present an offer she could never refuse.

An offer that would benefice the both of them. An offer that would grant his mother her last wish.

With a heavy sigh and a migraine, he entered the damned place.

A bell rang, the sound resounding through the air and cutting through the noisy jukebox's music. The diner was almost empty – but then again, dinner wasn't until a few hours. Everything about the place instantly displeased him. The murky colors, the grimily smell, the ancient decoration; it all made his stomach churn unpleasantly. He wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, and so he chose the first booth that appeared private enough for his needs.

"Good evening sir," A blond woman came rustling through the greasy tables towards him. As soon as he settled on his cheap leather seat, an old menu was shoved into his hands. "Can I get you anything?"

Christian frowned, then looked attentively at the menu, even though he wasn't really paying attention to anything written there, finally he placed it down on the table away from him. He glanced at the blond and clearly heard her sharp intake of air. He was used to it by now. Women usually had that kind of reaction to his appearance but today he wasn't feeling like himself so he didn't even muster his trademark smirk.

"Are you Anastasia Steele?" He simply asked, raising his brows.

The waitress gulped loudly and shook her head. "N-no…" She stuttered finally.

"Is she here?"

Her blond curls bobbed up and down fiercely. "Hm-hm." She complied, her throat dry as a desert.

"Well then," Christian coached patiently. "Could you please get her here?"

The woman, whose nametag said Cindy, blinked slowly before nodding uncertainly. "Yes. I'll call her. Just a moment." Then, she turned around, still breathy and giddy at the gorgeous man who sat right in front of her eyes.

"Oh, I'll have a coffee." He called out after her.

The blond rushed to the other side of the diner as quickly as her chubby legs would allow her. It didn't take long, since the place wasn't that big. She had trouble locating Ana, though, given her blurry vision from all the excitement she felt bubbling inside.

"Ana!" She nearly shouted once she spotted the brunette. "Oh. My. God." She threw her manicured hands into the air and waved them around frenetically. "You will never believe."

"What?" Anastasia asked, turning towards her friend, a deep frown on her face. She had just finished serving the last table from her section and had every intention of taking a much needed break – she had been working nonstop since the lunch shift, after all. "What's going on? Did something happen?"

"Yes!" Cindy chirped in, too energized to keep her voice down. "Yes, something happened. There is a hunk of a man, seated in the farthest section, asking for you."

Ana's eyes widened painfully. She felt her own mouth pop open. "What?" She asked again, for lack of better expression. "What do you mean a _hunk of a man_?"

"I mean exactly that. A drop-your-panties kind of guy that is out there," She pointed towards the end of the diner with a determined finger, "Asking to speak to you."

"I… Does he have a name?"

"No. I mean, he must have. I just don't know it myself." Cindy's dark orbits glinted with excitement. It wasn't everyday a well dressed, sexy as hell gentleman entered through those doors. "So why don't you go and find out."

Anastasia shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another. Usually she didn't have visitors – all the other working girls had their loved ones dropping by occasionally – but whenever there was someone to see _her_, it meant one thing only: problems.

Problems that always involved a debt she had to pay in order to live with the minimal survival conditions – electricity, water, taxes, mortgages, gas, medical expenses… you name it, and she probably couldn't afford it.

With a deep, troubled sigh, she nodded and walked towards the lonely booth Cindy indicated earlier. "Could you look after my tables, please?"

"Yes, yes. Don't worry. Go now, I'm dying to know who he is." The blond said, clapping her hands together and giggling like a schoolgirl.

With a quick, uneasy stride she made her way towards the far end of the diner. Indeed, in an isolated table, close to the window, stood a dark and large figure. His shoulders were broad and undeniably masculine, his hair dark and unruly. By the crisp look of his suit, he wasn't the kind of creditor Anastasia was used to dealing with. That made her all the more nervous. He seemed far more powerful and threatening than anyone she had ever seen.

Gulping, she reached his side. "Hi there," She said timidly. The man turned to face her and for a moment, she was completely dazzled. Cindy was right – he _was_ a hunk of a man. His face was all strong and sharp angles, his eyes stormy and entrancing, his lips voluptuous and inviting. There was a stubble worth of a couple of days in his jaw that made him all the more rough. Even to an inexperienced girl such as herself, there was no denying this man oozed danger.

Christian quirked his brow distastefully – he knew he shouldn't have expected much. This was a poor, motherless person who waitressed at a local diner to make her living. She wouldn't have been a goddess, or a supermodel, or even a very well groomed lady to begin with. But this mousy, unkempt, little brunette proved worst than his darkest nightmare.

_Nothing can get worst than this_, he thought grudgingly to himself.

"I'm Anastasia Steele." She finally broke the silence, extending her tiny hand. He glanced warily at it before shaking it with the quickest of gestures, dropping her hand immediately as if she had some kind of awful disease. The petite girl frowned, a bit hurt by his attitude.

She looked even more unpleasant with a frown, Christian mused, regarding her pale face. She was small and thin, her hair wild and dark – she couldn't be farther apart from the usual women he bedded. He growled in anger. How could his mother do this to him?

"Christian Grey." He said crisply. "Take a seat."

Anastasia stood there, unsure for a few seconds. Finally, she conceded and sat down opposite to him. If indeed he was the bringer of bad news she had to face it head on. Cindy chose that moment to appear with a sly grin and a mischievous glint to her eyes. She placed a mug of steamy coffee in front of Christian and winked discreetly at her friend.

"Will you need anything else?" The blond asked.

"No." Both ladies got surprised at the iciness of his tone but Christian added nothing else to smooth the ambience.

"Very well. If you need, call for me." Cindy said before walking away a little stung.

"Don't you know who I am?" The businessman-alike finally asked when the other waitress was far away enough for his pleasing. His steely eyes accessed the brunette that sat warily before him. Her hands were firmly clasped atop of the table and her cheeks visibly pallid. It was obvious to anyone within a mile radius, she wasn't comfortable there, and that only fueled his intrigue and displeasure further.

Finally, after what felt like dreadful hours, her thickened tongue managed to come alive. "No." Anastasia breathed uneasily. "I'm afraid I don't recognize you sir."

"Hmm." Christian mumbled, rubbing his chin with his thumb. _She almost looks innocent_, he thought to himself. But he only got more aggravated at that realization. This girl was nothing but a good actress. A very good actress. "That's convenient. Are you sure my name doesn't sound familiar?" He insisted. She only grew more pale and thin under his hard stare. He sighed annoyed. "Perhaps this one will ring some bells… Grace Trevelyan-Grey?"

Anastasia's eyes grew wider, recognition striking her. Grey? He was_ the_ Christian Grey? Grace's son? The one she's been hearing about since she was a kid? Suddenly the room seemed to grow even smaller. Christian was taking away all the air, all the energy, all the space. It made sense – how he looked, how he dressed, how he presented himself – his posture was of someone with importance.

And now that she looked closely, she could see the similarities. The eyes. Those deep, silvery pools that resembled so much Grace's. Except his were hard and guarded and hers were always kind and smiling. This was not the mental image Anastasia had drawn of him after all those praises and stories she had heard. All these years of letter correspondence and sporadic phones calls with his mother, made Ana grew fond of him. Grace always had a nice word about her younger son, a new accomplishment to tell, some achievement to gush about.

Anastasia grew up to believe Christian was a charming person. An amazing man. A brilliant mind. An astute entrepreneur. A devoted sibling. A caring son. He was almost like a prince, but never in her short-lived life, did she have _any_ pretensions of actually meeting him – she wasn't a princess herself.

In fact the only reason why she even knew Grace was because she had been best friends with her mother since kids. Unfortunately upon their high-school graduation they parted ways. Grace went to medical school in Seattle whilst Carla got stuck serving tables in the same diner where her daughter was now. Their lives grew so apart, the connection eventually burnt down. Fate only chose to bring them together under drastic events – Carla was diagnosed with breast cancer, and after several years of frustrating battles, she was finally sent to a specialist in Seattle in a last effort to find survival.

Survival she hadn't found. Instead she re-discovered her long lost friend, to whom she pleaded to take care of Anastasia.

Grace tried to fulfill that promise the best could. She wanted to have Anastasia moved out of Vancouver and onto her house. The girl refused to leave her father. And so, without being able to do more, Grace kept in touch. She kept in touch with Anastasia after Carla died. She wrote her letters, called her on especial occasions. Even offered to fly her over whenever she wanted. But the girl refused again. After turning sixteen, Anastasia began working to pay the medical bills her mother had left. Then, she worked harder to make ends meet. Then, she worked even harder to support herself after Ray had fallen sick. Now, she simply worked to have some canned chicken noodles for supper every night.

So seeing _here_ – out of all places in the world – a person she had never even thought possible to meet, rose alarms signs in her head. Anastasia fidgeted with her hands. "Did something happen to Grace?"

"Oh. So, you already are on first name basis?"

The venom on his tone made the poor girl flinch. _What did he mean?_ "We are friends." She tried to clarify, but her voice came out hesitant and unsure.

"That's precious." Christian spat. Normally he wouldn't show so many emotions on a single conversation but these weren't ordinary conditions. "And when, exactly, during your friendship with my mother, did you manage to convince her it would be a good idea to marry me?"

"W-What?" Anastasia squeaked horrified. By the grave tone of his voice she knew he wasn't kidding, but it made no sense to her. It was so illogical and unexpected that the sudden shock turned into uncontrollable laughter. _Her_? Marrying Christian Grey? Even when she hadn't met him, she knew that was absurd. He was a successful CEO. He was drop-dead-gorgeous. He was completely out of her league.

"You find this entertaining?"

She shook her head. "No. It's just… ridiculous."

Christian's brows shot to the roof. _Ridiculous_. Yes, that was it. He couldn't have said it better himself. But why was she saying that, if this had been her plan all along – to play Grace into forcing him to marriage? Why was she laughing?

Perhaps she's just trying to appear destitute of guilt. Perhaps this is a role-playing thing. It just simply _had_ to be that. There was no chance in hell the stupid looking girl was actually innocent. No, it couldn't be.

"Believe me, Miss Steele, I'm perfectly aware of that." He leaned forward, resting his elbows atop of the table, inching closer, growing more intimidating. "So let's cut the games. You got want you wanted."

Anastasia tried to melt her back into the uncomfortable leather seat. Having Christian's gorgeous yet menacing face just inches from hers made her sweat uncontrollably. Nothing was making sense to her; his presence here, his awfully cold demeanor, his outrageous suggestion that they should marry? It seemed like he was crazy. Absolutely insane.

"I don't think I understand what you mean." She whispered confused.

"I have got an offer to make." He continued, completely ignoring her inputs. "I will _marry_ you," Christian almost choked saying that word, but he forced himself to carry on. "For a year. And I will pay you five million dollars to keep our arrangement confidential after the divorce. And to keep you satisfied and established for life, of course."

There was a dead silence lingering between them. Then a loud pang resounded through the tiny cubicle – it was Anastasia's heart reviving. "I beg your pardon?" She finally asked, her voice trembling.

"Five millions aren't enough?" Christian asked crisply. He knew she was a gold-digger but a few millions were a good deal. If she wanted more, then she was even dirtier than he initially imagined.

"Five mi-millions?" She stuttered, her eyes growing painfully wide. "Tha-That's… _Millions_?" Anastasia took a deep breath and rubbed her temples briefly. She knew she wasn't making any sense but it was kind of hard to think, let alone articulate ideas, after such proposal. "Mr. Grey," Her voice managed to sound collected. "I'm really not following you here."

Christian growled internally. Was she dumb too? That was just his luck, to have an ignorant bride as well. "My mother has kindly demanded that I marry before she dies. If you are, as you put it, 'friends' I'm sure you are up to date with Grace's condition." The poor girl flinched at the mention of Grace's health – after seeing both her mother and father pass away precariously, she didn't deal well with sicknesses. "And, it appears your lying and scheming ways prevailed, because it is you I'm supposed to marry."

Anastasia furrowed her brows thoughtfully. It still sounded strange, but she was trying really hard to follow his explanation first, before lashing out. "What… What happens if you _don't_ marry?"

"Nothing."

"Then, why are you marrying, if you're clearly so opposed to it?"

Christian grew irritated with her questions. Would she just take the money already? "Because that is my mother's last wish. I'm not heartless."

"Hmm," The brunette bit her lower lip and adverted her eyes from the brooding man standing in the other side of the booth. "Then, doesn't it defeat the purpose? I mean, this deal you are proposing. You're saying you would marry, uhn, _me_ for only a year and… paying me for it?" Saying it aloud made her cheeks burn.

"A year seems enough time."

"Enough time for what? For Grace to die?" Her voice suddenly took a dangerous tone. It angered her to think Christian, the supposedly perfect child, was just waiting around the corner for his own mother to pass away.

His stormy eyes grew darker. A vein in his neck threatened to burst. "No." He growled viciously, making Anastasia jump in her seat. "I'll make sure to do _any_thing for Grace to be alive in the years to come. But this deal seems sufficient enough to make her happy and give her strength to carry on."

"But, I'm sure Grace wouldn't put you through something like this against your will?"

Christian snorted. "My mother believes _this_," He waved a long-fingered hand between their opposite bodies. "Is what I need."

"Then, she must have her own reasons." Anastasia concluded solemnly, knowing full well Grace never did anything that wasn't deeply reflected upon.

"Her reasons come simply from your manipulation." And there it was again, the suggestion that she had anything to do would _any_ of this. She was just as stunned as Christian, yet he kept saying she lied and schemed her way towards this deal.

She was still shaking like flimsy leaves on the inside, too dumbfounded with the situation, but she closed her eyes and inhaled sharply trying to regain focus. The charade had to stop there. She was supposed to be working. "Look, Mr. Grey, I'm deeply sorry and very concerned about Grace's health. She is an amazing person that didn't deserve such misfortune, and I hope you give her all my best wishes, but whatever it is you are suggesting it's simply absurd and frankly insulting."

"Miss Steele, I'm giving you what you want. You can drop the act."

Anastasia huffed a strand of hair out of her face and folded her arms under her chest. "There is no act!" She said exasperatedly. "I haven't even spoke to Grace in months! The last time I heard from her, she was beginning her new treatment. Whatever involvement you think I have in this, it's absurd. Now, it that's all you have say, I'll have to excuse myself. I have work to do."

She got up, ready to leave, feeling surprisingly insulted with his suggestions. She was used to getting looked down upon, people always had something awful to say about a lowly life waitress, but for some reason his views on her stung more than the average costumers'. Probably because she had heard so much about him, and had thought he was charming and caring person.

Right when Anastasia was about to pass through his seat, Christian's hand darted towards her wrist, grabbing it a bit more forcefully than needed. She buckled under his pressure, immediately. "Listen, you fucking gold-digger, let's cut to the chase. Name your price and we'll settle the arrangement."

Her first instinct was to slap him right across his face, but then she refrained from doing so. Firstly because she was on her work place and Mr. Carter wouldn't deal well with having his costumers assaulted – even if they deserved it. Secondly because as infuriating as he was, he was still Grace's son, the one she had heard great things about. But thirdly, and most importantly, because she stopped breathing as soon as his skin touched hers.

A wave of heat formed under his hand and travelled all the way to her shoulder, rising goose-bumps on every inch of her arm, burning her whole body.

It was strange, unwelcomed and… fuzzy. She shrugged her hand out of his grasp and tried to collect her emotions as best as possible under the circumstances – it wasn't an easy task.

"I don't appreciate to be mocked or offended Mr. Grey. I believe our conversation is over. I bid you a good evening and all my best wishes."

With that, Anastasia turned around and speeded through the old tables towards her section, huffing and panting all the way. Her heart couldn't stop the frenetic beating and her eardrums were almost exploding with the blood rushing through her hears. That had to be the most surreal encounter she had ever experienced.

She wasn't even sure what the hell had _really_ happened.

Christian Grey was here and wanted to marry her? And to pay her millions of dollars for it? And then, he insulted her and accused her of having any part on that particularly insane ordeal?

Absurd. Ridiculous. Fucking crazy.

That was all Anastasia could conclude. She may be a poor, uneducated young woman but she wasn't stupid. Christian was jesting with her – _big time_. He probably found hilarious to disrespect and make fun of others who where beneath his precious designer shoes.

Damn her luck.

From the corner of the diner, though, Christian was less than satisfied with the outcome himself. For some brief moments he had been too stunned to act. The way Miss Steele had reacted wasn't something he counted on. He thought she would greedily take the money and make everything easy for them. Instead she acted insulted and blew him off. Just like that. Just like someone who was innocent.

But that _couldn't_ be.

No, she had to be behind this plan. Why else would Grace come up with such awful desire? Why now? Why _Anastasia Steele _of all the women in the world?

With a troubled sigh he got up, dropped a couple of bills on the table and walked out of the claustrophobic place. He needed to readjust his strategy. She was probably just playing hard to get.

He would be back tomorrow to solve the matter, once and for all.


	2. New Strategies

**Firstly:** I apologize for the long wait. I wasn't counting on taking so long. I already have chapter 3 ready, though, and will post it tomorrow!

**Secondly:** I wish I could answer to every review individually, because I truly appreciate them, but unfortunately there is no way to reach guests. I wanted to say thank you to every one! And, since we are in the spur of the moment, I would also like to answer one particular review that I feel worthy of feedback.

Dear Guest,

First and foremost, I agree with you. It is highly unlikely that _any_ of this could happen in the 'real world'. Come to think of it, it is mostly inconceivable. Especially for a man, like you said, as Christian Grey. But _my_ Christian Grey is also a man that is powerful, domineering and in control – he feels like he can conquer the world (and perhaps he can, who knows?). Unfortunately what he can not conquer or even control is Grace's well-being and health. That makes him feel quite unapt and frankly desperate to grab on to something – anything – that would bring comfort and peace to his mother. Plus, he is such a wealthy person, he can totally dispense a couple of millions (_how ridiculous is that, though? So many people starving…_) and make a deal with the woman Grace wants him to marry. Like the characters said during their dialogue in the previous chapter, it is a contractual marriage – a provisional one. After a certain amount of time they will join the high divorce rate, along with the long-term-dating couples. Like we'll also read, in both this and the next chapter, there will be a ton of clauses that will help Christian control and deal with the situation with his best interests in mind. Again, it is _not_ a traditional wedding. They are not _supposed_ to fall in love (but who can control that, anyways?).

Regardless of it all, it is still crazy/unrealistic for anyone, yes. But I have no further arguments besides the fact that this is a fiction. And given that, I can create bi-dimensional and fantastical worlds that don't necessarily correspond to the one we are bound to. And hopefully, my readers will want to explore those worlds along side with me and maybe get a little lost and forget all about the harsh realness we most likely live in.

If you still want to give my story a shot, I'll be happy to hear it. If not, then I truly appreciate the time you took to read and comment, and for that, thank you.

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**2.**

**New Strategies **

Anastasia swept her hair over the shoulders, running the brush through the wet strands one last time. With a sigh, she turned away from the mirror. Clearly it wasn't a friendly object. Quite on the contrary, it only served to emphasize the paleness of her skin, the lack of that inner-glow every beautiful model had on the pages of those popular fashion magazines.

Smoothing the wrinkles of her shirt, she finished her uniform off by putting her old Nike sneakers, they were worn out, the black already fading to an insipid grey, but they were comfortable nonetheless and considering the long hours of work she had ahead of herself: comfort was her best-friend.

Glancing at the clock, she saw there was still plenty of time until the beginning of her shift but she had nothing to do. All night, Anastasia turned and tumbled on the sheets, her sleep too far away to be reached. When the first rays of sunlight invaded her small bedroom she couldn't stand the idea of being laid down anymore.

There was something nagging her at the back of her mind, something that she felt burning every time she looked at her wrist. It seemed as if Christian Grey's touch had blended into her skin as an imprint. Though he was rough and downright rude, Anastasia just couldn't forget those handsome eyes or those sharp angles of his face or that enticing smell of his body.

_If only he was nicer… _

Maybe then they could have become friends and she would finally stop being the lonely person she was. Sure, Ana had a friend in Cindy, but the other waitress was older and married with two kids to raise and a whole lot of other concerns in life – hardly best-friends-forever material.

She sighed again and decided to head off to the diner. Mr. Carter wouldn't mind her being earlier.

**xxxx**

Christian was restless, fidgeting in his car uncontrollably. He couldn't remember the last time he was this antsy about anything. Not even when dealing with major acquisitions and projects he grew so impatient. He couldn't understand why he was feeling the way he was, but he could only conclude it was because his mother's happiness was at stake.

He wanted to fulfill her last wish. He wanted to give her strength to carry on. But for that to happen he needed _that_ girl. That, difficult and quite strange, girl to come on board with his proposition.

Christian _knew_ she had something to do with this. She was a gold-digger after all. So the fact that she refused his initial deal was messing with his mind. Why? Wasn't money what she wanted? Weren't five millions enough to satisfy her hunger?

It was infuriating just to think about it.

But he wasn't one to give up easily. No, Christian Grey was a determined man. He knew what he wanted and he would get it no matter what. He just so happened to need to marry Anastasia Steele, even though deep down, he wasn't remotely satisfied with that necessity.

With that in mind, he took a deep breath, fixed his tie on the rearview mirror, and walked out of his car. In less then a minute, the annoying bell was ringing and Christian was passing through awful diner's threshold once again.

This time though, he went for a table in Anastasia's section. He wanted to resolve matters as soon as possible.

He chose another lonely booth, again by the window, though the view wasn't much. In fact it was quite depressing – it only showed degraded housings almost falling apart in the outskirts of town, and an impoverished and practically inexistent forest that was cut in half by a freeway. It was an ugly picture to observe but it was better than to analyze the diner's patrons.

Immediately, he detected her. Her small, thin body was wandering around in a business-y way. Anastasia Steele hustled through the tables with the ease of somebody that was obviously familiar with the place. It was disturbing but also compelling to see the grace in which she moved.

It didn't take her long to spot the freshly arrived costumer. Quickly she approached his booth. Her pace was rapid but distracted, and only when she got close enough to get a sniff of his intoxicating scent, did she realized who the man was.

Her heart stopped in the precise moment his head snapped up to meet hers.

"Miss Steele," His voice reverberated through the air cutting the silence into a million pieces. Her peace was disrupted. Anastasia wanted to sigh but her breath was long lost after a single gaze at this man's figure.

Christian was even more handsome today. And even more ruthless. His steely eyes were hard and so dark, they could have been mistaken by coal. His gaze was determined and fierce – bold even. It was intimidating. She gulped, she may not know him well – hell, now that she actually met him, every pre-constructed idea of Grace's son had been completely shattered – but she knew the signs of trouble when they stood in front of her.

_And boy, did this reek of trouble._

"Mr. Grey," Ana breathed uneasily, clasping her hands against her stomach. "What can I get you?"

An old menu was gently pushed towards him, but Christian's hand darted in time to stop it mid-air, before it could reach him. He had no desire to have anything – except his own way, which he was working on. Anastasia's eyes were wary of his simplest move, but she retrieved the plastic covered sheet without muttering another word. What else could she say, really?

"Can we speak?" Christian's voice was strained but collected. He sounded calm, in control. "Please?" He added, although it almost pained him to be so polite.

Christian Grey was _not_ a polite man. He was assertive and assured. He was confident and commanding. So to be here, in the lowest of lowly places, pleading to someone he already loathed, made him cringe in anguish inside. It was absurd, but he sucked it up. It was a necessary evil, after all. And Christian Grey was, above everything else, a pragmatic man. Whatever needed to be done, he would do it.

Anastasia bit nervously on her lower lip. What could he want – wasn't yesterday's encounter enough? Was he here to mock her further? At first, she wanted to flip him off, maybe insult his self-centered ass and then walk away with as much dignity as possible. But then she knew, deep down, she wouldn't be able to turn him down. It wasn't in her nature to be merciless and it wasn't in her nature to be as strong willed as to reject Christian's presence. He was alluring even if rude.

Warily, she answered. "I'm working right now." Her hands smoothed the wrinkles of her outfit. A sigh escaped her lips. "I'll have a break in half an hour. If you want to wait."

Christian's eyes widened as he contemplated in shock that option. He wanted to speak to her. In fact, he _needed_ to. But to stay here thirty minutes? The greasy smell of low-quality meals was already taking its tool on him. His stomach was convulsing with disgust. With a sharp intake of air, he pinched the bridge of his nose. This day was turning to be a nightmare.

Reluctantly, his head nodded on its own accord before he could object to it any further in his mind.

The petite girl was as surprised as him. She was half-expecting his outrage at being denied of his immediate wishes, but to quickly accept? Now _that_ was extraordinary. Not knowing was else to do, besides gapping uncontrollably at the man, she nodded as well, an almost imperceptible gesture, before turning on her heels and walking away.

This was not the day she had in mind.

**xxxx**

At exactly 10:17 a.m. – according to her faithful and ancient watch – Anastasia dropped the little notepad she always carried around in her back pocket, grabbed a bottle of fresh water and rubbed her temples fiercely in the hopes of conveying a miraculous source of courage that would help her with the pressing matter at hand. Or should she say, the pressing matter at the left wing of the diner, impatiently seated in a lonely booth by the window.

Throughout the fatidic last half an hour, she tried to abstract herself from his nagging presence. She didn't return to his seat to ask if he had changed his mind and wanted something to drink, or perhaps eat, after all. Ignoring Christian Grey was already a difficult task by afar, getting within a range of physical contact was humanly impossible. Simply unmanageable. And so, Ana didn't even dare to sneak a glance at him, and instead went about doing her business as professionally as she normally would, had she not experienced his early meddlesomeness.

With a last and deep sigh, she resigned to the idea of approaching him. She _had_ agreed to it, so there was no way around. Plus, the quicker she dealt with it, the faster Christian would go away and her life would restore normalcy.

At his corner, Christian wasn't feeling any better about the premises of the situation he was under. He even considered giving up and just walking away – to hell with the consequences. But then Grace's frail face with pop in his mind, and her thin lips would stretch sadly in an untrue smile, and her warm eyes would wrinkle at the corners to hide the sorrowful hurt within the translucent irises, and he couldn't do it. He couldn't bear the idea of being another source of pain for his own mother.

So, tapping his foot under his seat, drumming his fingers over the tabletop, and analyzing the petite brunette that hustled from a booth to another incessantly, Christian let the time slip. Witnessing the effort the girl put into work, he could almost understand why she would want a way out of this hole. He just didn't appreciate being used as an escape against his will.

Anastasia was a hard worker, he would give her that, but she was still as unappealing to him as watching paint chirp off of walls.

Christian was so worked up with that notion – that he would marry someone so unattractive and uninteresting – that he didn't even notice when she came close to his place.

Only her awkward cough brought him back to reality. He glanced up immediately and was greeted with the sight of her almost trembling body. Was she nervous? Afraid? Surprisingly enough, Anastasia Steele was proving hard to read. And that only aggravated his nerves further.

"Please seat," Christian said with a graceful move of his hand. He had thought about this moment long and hard, and had decided to make a fresh start, to try another approach. It seemed to be working so far, because the girl was agreeing with him instead of brushing him off like the day before.

"So…" Anastasia breathed, fidgeting with her small hands, biting her lower lip. She wanted to continue but was unsure of what to say. Her voice drifted off and she looked around nervously.

"I understand we didn't start off with the right foot. And, perhaps that was my fault. I was a bit… intense." _God_, thinking and actually performing were two very distinct actions. It was proving harder than Christian thought to maintain his cool. Still, he went on. "I apologize for that, Miss Steele."

He decided to let that sink in first. Indeed, it sank. There was an eerie silence surrounding them both, before Anastasia managed to react. Again, this was not what she had expected to hear.

"Intense it's putting it mildly, Mr. Grey. Your accusations were very rude." She was shaking inside, her emotions all over the place, but she tried to produce a calm front. Christian Grey wouldn't always get the best of her. She was a strong, independent woman. Well, maybe not _that_ strong. And certainly not _that_ independent since she was drowning in bills and debts. _But still_. She was a person and deserved to be treated with the minimum respect as any other human being.

"Like I said, I apologize." This time his voice came from gritted teeth. He wasn't _truly_ sorry, but he had a role to play. "You have to understand this situation is very delicate for me as well. Here," His hand drifted to the leather seat on his side where a briefcase stood. It was shinny and expensive looking, just like the rest of his attire. Ana ogled it curiously while Christian opened it and produced a stack of documents from its inside. "Take a look."

With a twitchy hand, she grabbed the papers from his grasp. The first line, though, made her whole body convulse with shock.

« **1.** The following are the terms of a binding contract between Christian Trevelyan Grey and Anastasia Rose Steele. »

"W-What?" Anastasia whispered uncertainly, it seemed as though most air in the room had suddenly disappeared. What the heck was that?

« **2.** The fundamental purpose of this contract is to establish the grounding rules regarding the marriage arrangement between Christian Grey and Anastasia Steele. »

"It is a contract." Christian explained calmly. "_Our_ contract."

"You are serious? You _were_ serious?" An abrupt horror took the girl's mind hostage. "You really mean to marry me and pay for it?"

"Yes. Yes to all the questions." He answered as gravely as possible. Miss Steele was a really good actress. It _almost_ seemed as if she was genuinely shocked. "I wouldn't have bothered to travel all these miles just to mock you, like you suggested."

"But… I just… Why?" Her voice was barely audible but she wasn't even sure how to keep breathing let alone how to articulate sentences. Christian Grey wanted to marry her. For _millions_ of dollars. Her eyes kept sweptwing through each page, each paragraph, bulging further and further out of their sockets with each line.

Christian took a deep breath. _Why was she trying to be so difficult_? "I already explained it yesterday. My mother is extremely ill. She expressed to me that her only wish is for me to marry… _you_. I would like to provide for her happiness by granting her desire. And obviously, as you can see, I will compensate you for agreeing to this unconventional engagement."

_Okay, this is real. This is happening_. Ana repeated that mantra over and over in her head until she began to believe it. He _had_ said it yesterday but she honestly thought he was jesting with her. Now he was here again, proving that the outraging suggestion he had made was actually real.

"I'm sorry to say it Mr. Grey, but I cannot accept your proposition." She pushed the contract away from her body with gentle fingers.

Christian's eyebrows rose to the rooftop. "What that does mean?" He asked incredulously, because, clearly, it could _not_ mean what he thought he had heard.

"It means I can't marry you."

"Why?" Now was his turn to whisper. Though the only reason why his voice was so low was to prevent the awfully grotesque scream that was threatening to make an appearance any time soon.

"Well, I already told you yesterday, it's ridiculous. We don't even know each other."

"I'm aware of that," Christian grunted, pushing the contract back to the place where it belonged – in Anastasia's hands. "That's why I made a contract and that's why this is a marriage of convenience."

"But, still Mr. Grey, I don't…" She was about to blurt out a whole list of reasons for why this idea was absolutely ludicrous. Anastasia Steele, a poor uneducated waitress, could never belong next to Christian Grey, billionaire entrepreneur – even if pretending. It was simply unthinkable. Plus, receiving money for it made her feel cheap. And she wasn't ready to prostitute her time and life.

"No." Christian extended one of his long-fingered hands, efficiently interrupting her discourse. "I took the liberty of running a background check on you Miss Steele," The girl's eyes popped out in utter shock, but he chose to ignore it. "And if the information I obtained is correct, and I assure you it is, you are – to put it plainly – fucked.

"There's the mortgage of your house, the debt to the insurance company regarding your father's illness, the medical bills concerning your mother's treatments in both Vancouver and Seattle hospitals, the debits to the gas company, the electricity company… Should I carry on?"

The little waitress gulped and looked at her knotted hands. Why did he have to point it out like that? It felt even worse to hear someone else trace all the problems she had. "What's your point?" She finally managed to squeak.

"My point is that, this marriage is beneficial for the both of us. I get what I want, and you get… freedom. No more struggles every month. Five millions can assure your safety and provide for a very comfortable future, Miss Steele."

"But…" Again the words died down in her sore throat. She kept hearing the words _five millions_ but that was such an abstract concept to her. So much money. She could never even dream of possessing such amount.

"And did you not say you were friends with Grace?" Christian continued. He was ruthless – playing with ones emotions was a dangerous and probably immoral thing to do, but he was determined to get that damned document signed. He was giving her what she wanted, after all. "Wouldn't you do it for her? She needs support. She needs strength to carry on. If this deal makes her happy, then it's a good deed."

"It's a lie!" Anastasia breathed exasperatedly. "We would be lying to Grace. If she ever was to found out, it would be much worse!"

"It's an agreement." Christian said without batting an eyelash. Counter-offering was like an art to him. "My mother is, clearly, very debilitated and not in the most lucid state of mind. In her head, the both of us marrying is an ideal outcome. Once she recovers her senses, she will understand the absurdity of the situation and the position we took."

The petite brunette drowned half of her bottle of water, not caring once if she was being unlady-like. Everything was already too strange for her to care about table manners. Could Christian Grey be right? She _did_ need some money, some freedom from the adversities she faced every single week. And Grace _was_ her friend. Probably the only person who cared enough about her to keep tabs on her life after Carla passed away.

Plus, if Grace had demanded that she and Christian marry, then he was right – his mother was delusional. If she was to recuperate from her frail state, she would see the derisiveness of her own desires. And if she did not recuperate – Anastasia shivered at that thought – then at least they had fulfilled her last wish, and she would go in peace.

A major headache was threatening to shatter Ana's brain in tiny pieces, but she inhaled sharply and made her decision. She would help Grace find comfort during her hardships. That was what friends were for.

"I will accept this deal." She finally told aloud after repeating it incessantly in her own head.

Christian was so absorbed in his own musings, surrounded by the thick silence that hovered over that particular booth, that he almost missed her words. After they sank in, though, the biggest feeling of accomplishment swept through his body. He _had_ done it.

"Good." He simply stated, satisfied.

"I have some conditions, though." Anastasia said almost timidly. Now that she had agreed to be this man's bride, being in his presence made her suddenly shy and self-conscious – more so than normal.

"Of course." Christian tried to maintain a polite expression on his face, but it was hard to keep collected when this girl placed problems after problems to their, already hideous, agreement. Would she want _more_ money?

"I would like to read the contract. In detail. But, uhm, I'm working…" She finished off awkwardly.

"Oh, yes, sure. Well, you _should_ read it in detail, you are right Miss Steele." For some reason the fact that she was smart enough to not sign anything without a thorough evaluation pleased him. At least she had that quality going on for her. "Then, I will pass by your place tonight and we can discuss the final agreements."

"T-Tonight?"

"Yes. The sooner we leave this town, the better. My time truly is money." With that, Christian Grey got up, adjusted his perfect suit, picked up the shinny briefcase and turned to walk away. "I will see you later." He didn't wait around to hear Anastasia's response or to ask for her address. Could he possibly have it already?

She couldn't think straight. She was still too dumbfounded regarding what she had just agreed to.

Anastasia was now – verbally – engaged to Christian Grey. It was like a business transaction, and it was only to give Grace motives to fight harder. So why were her hands trembling like this?


	3. Grounding Rules

**A thousand thanks for the support!**

* * *

**3.**

**Grounding Rules**

The clock announced the definite arrival of the night. It was now nine in the evening and still no signs of Christian Grey. Anastasia was beginning to grow neurotic. She had already cleaned the entire house a couple of times, made a lemon cake – just in case her guest wanted something to eat – and changed her outfit three times.

Nervous was an understatement to describe the dreadful feeling inside her.

Christian-the-man already made her skittish. But Christian-the-_fiancé_ was absurdly nerve-wracking. Would he agree to the alterations she had made? All afternoon, Ana read and re-read the contract, writing down everything she wished to change. She decided that she would maintain her position and be strong-willed. She could do it, regardless of how much more intimidating he was – or handsome, or smart, or powerful – Anastasia Steele would make a stance.

_Argh_, thinking about the situation wasn't helping in the slightest.

She glided towards the lengthy mirror of her hallway one more time and inspected her clothes. The jeans, though old and faded, were the nicest pair she possessed, and the shirt was soft and comfortable. The whole attire was modest, but then again, so was everything she had – from her job to her house. Modesty should even be her middle name, she ruggedly thought.

Anastasia had no more time for self-depreciating comments though, because – finally – the bell rang. With a loud thump in her chest, she made her way to the entry. Her hands were almost too sweaty to open the old door.

At last, she managed that particular task. Christian Grey stood there, imposingly as ever, and with his arrival, a cold breeze sneaked through the threshold, installing itself on the room. _Damn_, now she had no way of keeping them both warm.

"Hi," Anastasia finally croaked, stepping aside to let his lean body slide in.

"Good evening."

Their greetings were short and cold, but else could they say? It wasn't as if any of them wished to be in the position they were under.

Christian's eyes wandered through the house. It was old and drafty. It needed desperate handiwork, or perhaps to be demolished completely and rebuilt from scratch. The decoration was vintage – and not in a fashionable way. It made him shudder, but he fought against it. The last thing he wanted was to offend the girl and have her backing away on their deal before the contract was signed.

"Did you have trouble finding my place?" She finally asked once they arrived at the living-room. She gesture with her hand for Christian to seat and, though wary and hesitant, he obeyed.

"No."

"How did you manage to get my address? Was it during your background check on me?" Ana didn't know if she should find that particular option amazing or simply frightening. Since the moment he left the diner, she had been wondering how the hell he would get to her house. She even contemplated the notion that perhaps he _wasn't_ going to show up.

But that didn't strike as Christian Grey's modus-operandi. If he said he would do something, then he probably would.

"Yes." He answered calmly, unsure if his host would make a fit about that revelation or not. "It was."

"I guess the information you obtained really _is_ correct," She muttered under her breath, but her voice was light and unpreoccupied. She guessed he only got her financial status because he was a business man with access to those records, and, obviously, her address would feature within the details.

The corners of his mouth twitched in an involuntary smirk. "I _did_ assure you of that."

Anastasia blinked in reaction to his expression. It was probably the most sympathetic thing she would get from him. "Do you want something to drink?"

"No."

"Do you want something to eat… perhaps?" Her eyes lit up with the hopes he would taste her own masterpiece. Lemon cake was her – only – specialty.

"No." Christian repeated. Though after a while, he added, "Thank you." He didn't want to appear ungrateful.

"Oh," Ana breathed, fidgeting with her hands. What a fool she was, thinking Christian would want anything else besides getting the deal finished and moving on with his life. "Then, I guess we should discuss this," She picked up the stack of papers that stood dreadfully still in the little coffee-table.

Christian simply nodded. He didn't want to sound too eager or nervous. And though it pained him to admit it, even to himself, he was _very _nervous. He didn't know the girl at all – what alterations could she possible do?

"Well, then, uhm…" Anastasia coughed, trying to buy a little time for her bravery to show up. After a while, though, she took a deep breath and decided to go for it. There was nothing to lose, after all. "I made a few changes and without them I cannot, er, accept this deal."

"Very well." Why was his stomach wrestling inside his body?

"So, the first thing, is that I don't want five millions…"

_Oh God_, here it comes, an absurd and insane amount of money – he thought to himself while grinding his jaw. "Then, how much do you want?" _You fucking greedy whore_, he felt like adding, but hold it inside.

Anastasia's hands were trembling but she was determined now. It was also her life at stake here. She picked up a small piece of paper that she had used to make some accounts. "I will only accept 324.765 dollars and 46 cents."

A deathly silence filled up the space. Christian's forgot to breathe for a moment. "324.765 dollars and 46… cents…?" He choked out, unsure he had heard it correctly.

"Yes." Anastasia's got her strength fuelled by his discomfort. It appeared Christian Grey could also get dumbfounded. That realization made her feel better, somehow. "That is all I need to pay for the debts and credits I have. The ones you mentioned earlier."

"And that's _all_ you want?" He insisted.

"Monetarily? Yes."

"Is this a trick?" Christian demanded, suddenly feeling angry. Was this girl playing some kind of game?

"How could this be a trick?" She asked offended. "You are the one that made the contract and agreed to this clause, I'm just changing the values of my payment. I could never accept millions, Mr. Grey. And I only accept this because I will be gone for a year and need to settle my troubles once and for all."

He understood less and less of it all. He was feeling the control slip through his fingers and wasn't enjoying the sensation. "What else?" He grunted.

"Hmm…" Anastasia's eyes drifted to the legal documents, looking for her own scribbles on the sides. "Here, on the sixth clause, it says I should stay at home and perform my role as your wife. But, I want to work."

Christian narrowed his silvery eyes. It was intimidating and she fought a shiver. "Why would you work? A wife of mine would never have a need for it."

Ana's pale cheeks gain a bright color, as she faintly blush, recalling her dreams. "Now that my financial difficulties are going to be resolved, I would like to make a fresh start. And I would like to work to be able to pay for my education."

"Your… education?"

"Yes," The petite brunette adverted her eyes towards her small hands. She wanted to go to a University and maybe study Literature. It was her passion. "I would like to pursue an academic career."

"You want me to pay for your college, is that it?"

"No, I just told you, I want to work so that _I_ can pay for it myself."

"But it's an unnecessary. I'm sure I can afford it." Christian insisted, clearly missing the point of the whole situation. He was growing impatient.

"I'm sure too," Anastasia conceded. It was obvious that Christian Grey wasn't enjoying this conversation but she wasn't about to back down now. "But that's not the point. I don't need and, especially, I don't _want_ you to pay for anything that involves only me. It is my future and my concern. Plus, I refuse to stay useless for a whole year while married to you."

"You can participate in charity events. My sister-in-law has a foundation that helps women in need, I'm sure she can include you in the committee."

It was Ana's turn to grind her teeth. Most charities, in particular the ones sponsored by filthy rich people, made her skin crawl. It was mainly a bunch of well-groomed, expensively dressed people that gathered around in a fancy place, wept over the abstract difficulties others went through, threw some money to make them feel better about themselves and their place in the world, and then went home in their luxurious cars to their dream mansions.

Maybe she was being unfair, and maybe she was being too quick to judge, but her past experiences didn't allow her to grow fond of charity-cases. And she felt she had a right to have some prejudices of her own – she was only human.

"I won't be a Stepford Wife." She said, harsher than necessary.

Christian flinched inside with her tone. He was stunned at her aggressiveness. Anastasia Steele was hell-bent on challenging him and getting her own way. It made him enraged to no ends, but, somehow, deep down, it also made his consideration for her grow.

Though he was unpleased, he decided to move on. If she wanted to work, then so be it. He only wanted to finish the negotiation and go to sleep. "Is not working a deal-breaker for you?"

"Yes, it is." She confirmed without batting an eyelash. She was surprised at herself for being so assertive. "I want to work."

"Okay then. Work – if that makes you happy." He released a deep sigh and rubbed his temples. "What's next?"

"Uhm," Again her eyes wandered through the pages, looking for guidance. "In the eighth clause, it says any personal expenses concerning me during the marriage period are to be cover by you. What expenses are we talking about?"

"Anything. Clothes, jewelry, beauty treatments, medical care, trips…" His hand waved around in a bored motion.

"Well, I accept you to pay for the wedding and anything related to that. I'm also on board with having you buy whatever I need in order to attend the social and business functions your job requires. And maybe my medical expenses… But anything else, it's unnecessary."

Again, Christian was rendered speechless for a moment. "What do you mean _unnecessary_? If I'm not giving you any money besides the amount you need to settle your debts, how will you… care for yourself?" He asked after he recovered.

Anastasia's spine straightened up, her neck snapped upwards, her chin lifted in a proud stance. "I'm not high-maintenance, Mr. Grey. And whatever it is I may find necessary, I'll pay with my own money. I _will _work, after all."

It shouldn't bother him so much. The girl was proving to be less of the expanse he had originally braced himself for. She was unburdening him of troubles. So, why was he upset about it? It was disturbing and Christian didn't understand his own feelings in the slightest.

"As you wish." He muttered under his breath. He was dreading the next conditions now.

"Great," Anastasia smiled genuinely. She didn't even sound smug – only happy. "So, let's see…" She bit her lower lip absently. It perturbed Christian that his eyes strained towards her mouth. It was naturally pouty and full. Probably her best asset, he concluded. "I'm okay with having my own room in your house and with the family functions and reunions. I agree that our wedding should be as quick as possible. And I accept to sign a prenup that states I have no claim over your estate, besides the amount of money we have established."

"Glad to hear you actually _agree_ with something, for a change." He said humorlessly.

"Yeah," Ana shrugged. She knew what was about to come wouldn't please him as much. "I have other revisions, though…"

"_Oh_, what a surprise," He deadpanned.

She ignored him the best she could, and carried on. "It is implied in the contract that I should be subservient to your, er, wishes… but I refused to have my life controlled or to have the right to make my own decisions stripped away. I'm not a brainless, plastic doll Mr. Grey."

"You don't have to be _subservient_ to my wishes, Miss Steele, you just have to understand that I am, most likely, capable of determining what is best for us, as a couple, and for you, as my wife."

"I may be your wife, but I'm still my own person. I won't go against you in public, and I will never do anything to jeopardize our marriage, or the image of it, but I my decisions are mine to make."

Christian's teeth clashed so hard against each others, it was a miracle they didn't shatter. This was proving to be more changeling than he was ready for. Anastasia Steele was pushing all his buttons. This was supposed to be easy. It was supposed to be quick and painless. But somehow, it was turning into a nightmare – his worst nightmare.

"Your decisions can be entirely yours when it comes to you and you alone. Regarding our relationship – and the _image_ of it – I _do_ know what's best, and you'll just have to be flexible and work with it." His voice was low and dangerous, a sign his patience was hanging by the thinnest of threads.

The petite girl shrank in her seat with his tone. With a gulp, she cleared her throat. It was the best she would get, and she knew it. It was already a relief to know she would have power over her own self. Warily, she nodded. "Okay, but I want to be able to express my opinions. And I want them to be held in consideration too."

Christian growled but nodded. If he spoke, he would probably cut her skin with the sharpness of his voice. Having something in consideration was a very subjective matter. And he _could_ listen to her opinions – it didn't signify he would act accordingly.

Anastasia almost smiled, but glancing at the legal stack of papers she held – and seeing the next clause she would object to – turned her expression into a grimace, instead.

_Okay, this is it. You can do it_. She repeated over and over in her head.

"I-I have only one more objection… It's regarding the eighteenth clause and, uhm, extra-marital affairs. It states here that you are allowed to indulge in sexual relationships outside our marriage."

Christian's eyes narrowed even further. Would she really oppose to this too? "Yes," He started, trying hard to control his temper. "I believe neither of us expects our relationship to be _christened_, and a year is a long period of time. I am a man – with needs."

Ana was reticent to speak about this matter before, but something about his voice – or perhaps his choice of words – snapped an uncontrollable fury inside her. She grew bolder. "Very well. But here only says _you_ can have a mistress, what if _I_ want to have a… lover too?"

The word almost choked down in her throat. _A lover_ – what a joke. She had never even had a boyfriend, let alone someone more intimate. She was completely unexperienced but she just wanted equal rights, damnit. If he could have women in his bed, then she could have men in hers. Not that she would actually have _any_, but it was the freedom of option that mattered.

Christian's jaw dropped to the floor immediately. It took a while to place it back on its right spot. When he recovered though, he blinked rapidly, completely enraged. "My wife will not have _any_ lover! You will not engage in any kind extra-marital activities!" He hissed almost rabidly.

Anastasia grew mad too. What kind of misogynic jerk was this guy? So, he could do whatever pleased him, but his wife had to stay at home, quiet and submissive, catering to his every wish? This was the twenty-first century. Women had rights now – and she would be damned if she would allow her ancestors' fight to be in vain.

"It's fine for you to have whatever affairs you find convenient, but not for me? You said it yourself, a year is a long period of time. You're a man and I'm a woman – we both have needs. I want to have mines assisted as well."

_Liar, liar, pants on fire. _She didn't really want her needs assisted. She wasn't sure she _had_ many needs in that department. But still. It was necessary to make a point.

Christian's body bolted up. His figure was impressive – and menacing. His gaze alone could smolder the weakest. It was clear as water, he wasn't fancying the course of the discussion. But Anastasia refused to back down and, instead, got up as well. Her head reached only his chest but she wouldn't be intimidated now – not after all this.

"So you want to have a lover? Many lovers?" His voice was so low, it was barely audible. Somehow that made it all the more threatening. "If you have those kinds of needs, I can attend to them."

"No, thank you." She bit back crisply, folding her arms across her chest. "Like you also said, none of us is expecting our relationship to be christened. Plus, if you were to attend to my needs, then I would have to attend to yours and, believe me, I have no wish to bed you, Mr. Grey."

A vein in Christian's neck was about to burst. He felt like smacking something – _hard_. He knew it. He knew it all along that Anastasia Steele was a gold-digging, spineless whore. "Are you going to look for a new prey? Is that it?" He asked disgusted. "Are you getting ready to scout for your next husband? Perhaps someone that can sustain you after our marriage is over?"

Anastasia's face palled considerably – then reddened impossibly. She took a step forward, her hands twitching at her sides. "How dare you, _you_ _imbecile_, to accuse me of something so crass when you are the one presenting me this ridiculous, absurd and quite offensive contract that has only your own preservation in regard, and no consideration for me whatsoever?"

Christian's body was also twitching – in fact, it was almost convulsing. It took a divine amount of self-control to not lash out and destroy the whole room. Instead, he closed his eyes, inhaled sharply and sat down again.

So what if Anastasia wanted to have side-lovers? It wasn't as if he didn't know she would be a slut. And it wasn't as if he cared about it. They were only pretending. She was nothing – meant nothing. It shouldn't bother him so much.

Rationally, it _shouldn't_ matter. Christian knew it. But somehow, his emotions were getting the best of him. Something about imagining _his_ wife – real or not – in another man's bed, made him want to snap the unfortunate guy's neck in half.

It was disturbing and unsettling that he was feeling _this_ possessive. So, for his own sake, he nodded. "Fine." He whispered through clenched teeth. "You can have your own lover, as long as I know about it. And at the first sign of exposure, you are to terminate the affair _immediately_, regardless of your opinions on the subject."

Anastasia was momentarily stunned. _Was this real? _Could Christian Grey be backing down on this? Pride wasn't enough to cover how she was feeling about herself. Finally, she was stepping up and making her own rules. She _was_ strong. She almost felt like wept with joy.

"Fair enough," She conceded easily. She wouldn't even have to worry about it. It wasn't as if she would actually find anyone to have an affair with. "In return I want you to be discreet as well, and to never bring your mistresses home."

Christian cracked his knuckles. Would her demands never end? "I would never bring my mistresses home, I'm not an animal."

Ana snorted, but hold any retorts to herself. She didn't want to ruin the progress they had made. "I have only one last thing I would like to add to the contract."

His long, strong hands rubbed his face tiredly. Silence was his only response. He was too fatigued.

"If I die, during the time we are going to be married, I want half of the amount of money you would pay me to be given to Cindy Walkers, and the rest to be given to some hospital or institution that is researching cures for cancer."

Christian's head snapped up and his eyes met hers. "Is that all?" He asked slightly confused. This girl was proving to be a puzzle. One minute she would demand the right to have lovers, the next she would want to give her money to her friend and institutions. Was she a gold-digger or was she truly innocent? Was she a slut or was she really fighting for equality?

Everything was so confusing, he felt a migraine stir in his head.

"Yes." She said and he felt a wave of relief travelling his body. "After those alterations are made, I'll sign the contract."

"Good," His voice sounded weary. "With the contract I want you to sign a NDA. Our agreement can not be spoken about to anyone. You can't disclosure the nature our marriage – not even to your friends."

Ana nodded – it wasn't as if she had many friends to tell anything. In fact, besides her co-worker and her boss, she had no one else to share the news of her unconventional engagement with. "Alright."

"Well then," Christian got up, only this time he didn't plan on sitting down again. "Pack your things. We'll leave to Seattle in the morning. Don't worry about the financial transitions of your payment. I'll personally deal with it myself."

"I can't go," She breathed lowly, biting her lip and avoiding his stare.

"What?"

"I can't go tomorrow morning. Not like that. I have been working on Mr. Carter's diner since I was sixteen, I can't just leave town without a warning and a farewell. I need at least a week."

An incredibly amount of air was expelled from Christian's lungs with such force, it was a wonder his veins didn't burst throughout the process. "Must you defy me every time, Anastasia?"

Hearing him say her name made her heart flutter madly against her ribcage. _What is wrong with you?_ She scolded herself mentally – but she couldn't help the wave of excitement that ran through her whole being. "I'm not defying you. You just have to understand I have a life here, it might not be much, but it still has knots to tie."

"Three days, then." He growled.

"Four…?" She pleaded with big and shinny eyes.

"Fine. But not a second longer. If you're not ready within four days, I'll personally come and drag you out of here myself. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly, Mr. Grey."

"Call me Christian," He said turning around, towards the exit. "If we're going to marry, we have to at least address each other more intimately."

"O-Okay…" Anastasia stuttered caught by surprise with this change of behavior. She walked up to him, and then onto the hallway. There was a weight lifted off her shoulders now that things were clear.

Finally, they arrived at the door. Christian didn't lost any time in opening it and stepping outside, into the cold and windy night. "Well, I'll see you in a few days, then." He said unsurely of how to proceed and too exhausted to care. "Bye, Anastasia."

Again, a flutter in her heart. Would she ever get used to hearing him say her name?

"Goodnight, Christian," She said softly before closing the door.

Christian stood there a second too long, paralyzed in her entry, recalling the gentle baritone of her voice while whispering his name. He should be feeling content and accomplished now. Anastasia Steele had agreed to his propositions. They were about to sign the contract. Grace was going to have her wish fulfilled.

Everything was going in the right direction. That's why he couldn't understand the presentiment he had flourishing inside his mind – something told him this was just the beginning of a very complicated, very turbulent journey. One he _wasn't_ ready for.

* * *

**P.S.** Just wanted to share that I know Christian is an infuriating asshole at times. I did warn you guys about it. But I assure you, he will truly find redemption somewhere in the future!


	4. New City, New Life

**A/N: **I'm sorry I took so long to update but during these past days my life has been quite busy. My mother was operated, somewhere along the line it was also my birthday, and right now I'm in the process of moving. So, it was just a little chaotic for me…

Anyway, with no further delays: here it is. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**4.**

**New City, New Life**

"What do you mean you are going to get married?" Cindy demanded, voice changeling, hands stuck on her round hips.

Anastasia glanced around nervously while playing with the thin fabric of her shirt. It was her last day in Mr. Carter's diner, and though she had already talked to her boss, she hadn't had to courage to bring up that particular topic with her friend – until _now_.

"It means, I'm, uhm, engaged."

"To whom?!"

"That man, you remember, the guy that was here some days ago. Mr. Gr… Christian Grey. The business man, he's my fiancé."

"The hunk of a man?" She asked incredulously. Her dark eyes were glistening with excitement and, mostly, disbelief.

The brunette couldn't help the giggle that escaped her. "Yep, that's the one."

"Oh my God!" Cindy breathed, placing a chubby hand right across her heart and sitting down in the nearest of chairs. She could not believe her own ears. "Are you for real?"

Anastasia smiled again. She knew her friend's incredulity had nothing to do with malice. It was only natural to doubt a sudden and never-heard off engagement – one that would take her to a new city and introduced her to a lifestyle neither of them could dream off. "Yes, I'm going to get married. And it's real. Very much so."

"I… Don't know what to think." Cindy admitted, helplessly grasping for a cup of water. If Anastasia had told her she was actually an illegitimate daughter to some royal European family it would have been easier to believe, but getting _married?_ The girl had never even dated, how could it be possible that things escalated that quickly? "A-Are you pregnant?" The thought suddenly struck the blond hard, and she couldn't help but ask.

Ana's cheeks instantly heat up. She shook her head violently. "Unless the Holy Spirit visited me during the night and I'm the next Virgin Mary – no. There is no way I'm pregnant."

Cindy's eyes widened and squinted all at once. If her friend wasn't making sense before, now she might as well be speaking in Mandarin. "You're making _that_ guy wait for the wedding night?"

The brunette's flush extended way past her cheeks and onto her neck. She wasn't making anyone wait – for _any_ night. But it was only natural that others would think so, for all everyone knew, their marriage was absolutely legitimate. "Yeah… Well, you know, uhn, I…" She hugged her elbows defensively while blabbering about purity and love.

Cindy interrupted by reaching out and patting the soon-to-be-bride's arm. "You go girl!" She practically shouted such was her sudden excitement. "That's my Ana," She beamed again clapping her hands together. "You make that fine piece of meat wait on his ass for it! Make him work for a taste of you."

"Cindy!" Anastasia chastised, hiding her brightened-red face under her palms. They were attracting some unwanted attention. "Just lower your voice…"

"What do you care, anyway?" The blond asked not bothering to attend her friend's request. "You're finally leaving this dump. I always knew you were too good for this, honey."

"Oh, Cindy, don't say things like that…" Treasonous tears started to sting in her big eyes. It was so hard to lie to the only person she was close with. Anastasia wished for nothing more than to spill the beans, admit that she wasn't too good for anything, that she simply had made a stupid deal, that she was in a situation way out of her depths, that she was _scared_ – but the stupid NDA Christian's lawyer sent the day after their negotiations was already signed and efficiently preventing her from telling the truth.

"It was about damn time something good happened to you. I'm the first to say _this_ is quite unexpected, and maybe a little rushed, but the heart wants what the hearts wants, right? And if you're going away, you might as well go with a bang!"

Anastasia shook her head, still too emotional about this particular goodbye. It was so much harder than she was prepared for. She was feeling overwhelmed, but the sadness stopped invading her heart the moment Cindy decided to jump onto the chair, wave her hands in the air like a maniac, and shout for anyone within a mile radius to hear.

"My friend is getting married!"

"Cindy, what…?" Ana tried to pull on her sleeve and bring her down to the ground, but those attempts failed miserably as the blond simply shrugged out of her grasp and carried on.

"She's finally leaving this place! Her fiancé is absolutely mouth-watering. He's fucking Adonis! I've seen him already and can totally attest to that. He's rich too –"

"Oh God," The brunette groaned shamefully into her hands, hiding her face, as more and more patrons turned in their direction, curiously eyeing this declaration.

"Filthy rich! In fact he could probably pay for everyone's lunch here… and maybe dinner too –"

"Cindy!" Anastasia pleaded again, too mortified to even try to run away.

"What the heck is going on?!" Only the booming voice of Mr. Carter made everyone calm down. Some whistles and muffled hollers echoed through the dinner but Cindy finally came down from her makeshift podium and the attentions were dispersed quickly.

"I was just giving Ana here an unforgettable farewell. You of all people know she deserves it, Mr. Carter." The blond waitress didn't even have the dignity to look embarrassed for being caught raising havoc. She was just _that _much assured – Ana envied that natural confidence and knew she could never be mad about what Cindy did.

Mr. Carter's eyes softened and its corners wrinkled in sympathy. He, too, didn't have the heart to get upset about something like that. Anastasia Steele had proven to be one of the best workers he ever had. Since the moment she walked through those doors asking for a part-time job until the present day, she had always been polite, preoccupied, committed. She was always the first to arrive and the last to leave. If someone deserved a break it was this girl. He was only sad to see her go away.

"Now, Ana," He said, gently embracing the petite brunette. "You know you'll always have a place here, if things turn out sour – which I'm hopping they won't! But you know… Just in case…"

Anastasia hugged the old man and tried to hide the tears in the crock of his neck. She had sworn to never cry again after spending so many days doing it for her parents, but now it was proving hard to hold on to that particular promise. These people – as loud and embarrassing as they may be, sometimes – were her only family. And she was _leaving_ them.

"Don't forget us ole' folks here, once you're living the fancy life." Cindy croaked, her voice laced with emotion, she was fighting hard the tears herself. "And if Mr. Hunk-of-a-man ever hurts you, be sure to tell me, 'cause I'll go down to Seattle with my faithful shotgun and blow his balls really fast."

"Oh, Cindy…" Ana hugged her friend – tightly – as well, and then mumbled something about never forgetting them. She wasn't sure she was making sense, but she wasn't in the right state of mind to care either way.

It felt like her lungs were being ripped out of her body.

Finally, she managed to disentangle herself from their warm embrace and walk away before she could do something idiotic like telling them the actual truth.

**xxxx**

Anastasia glanced around her home one more time. Admittedly, it wasn't in great shape. The decoration was already old and quite unpractical when it came to the modern's world necessities, and the infra-structures were slowly deteriorating with each passing year; but it was _hers_ nonetheless. And it had many memories – though most weren't that bright.

Regardless, it sprouted a sense of lost in her chest, gazing the place for the last time. _The last time for a year_, she sternly corrected herself – it wasn't like she would never come back. Her big eyes wandered through the lifeless space again, before she took a deep breath, picked up her bags and walked swiftly towards the entrance.

There was a man, a man right in her driveway, leaned against a black and menacing SUV that somehow matched his mood perfectly. He gave her chills. It wasn't that he had been impolite, or anything other than excruciatingly professional, but the single purpose of his job made her nervous – why the need for a personal security? She didn't feel comfortable with the notion of having an 'escort'. She could make it to Seattle just fine on her own.

Ana had tried to explain that to the guy-dressed-in-black that had appeared on her doorstep the day before. Jason Taylor – he presented himself. He said he was there on Mr. Grey's orders just to make sure she would leave Vancouver on the rightful date and arrive in Seattle in one single piece. Despite her insistency, he refused to let her go alone.

"Is this everything, Miss Steele?" Taylor came around and tried to snatch her bag away. She held on to it tightly.

"I've already told you – it's Ana."

"Ana," He said reticent, as if treating someone by their respective birth name was something completely unnatural and never heard off. She gave him the bag and a small smile for encouragement. "Are you sure about driving yourself?" Taylor insisted.

Anastasia rolled her eyes – _again_ this discussion. The previous day they had spent a couple of hours arguing about it. She wanted to take her own car, since she would probably need it there, but Taylor swore Mr. Grey wouldn't be pleased with that. To resolve matters, they finally called Christian, and Ana spent another hour discussing the situation with him. In the end, and most likely, because both men were sick of hearing her arguments, she won. She would drive to Seattle in her old and faithful Beetle while still being escorted by Taylor – who would drive the intimidating SUV behind her the entire time.

She was happy with that settlement. _The men?_ Not so much. Christian was grinding his teeth by the time they were done talking and Taylor was still suspicious of Ana's welfare when driving that death-trap.

"I'm positive." She beamed, walking quickly towards Wanda. She loved that vehicle. It had been her mother's. It was now hers. _It was special_.

"Well, if Mr. Grey said yes…" His tone left no doubt that he was completely astonished by the fact that his boss had backed down on an argument. Mr. Grey wasn't known for his comprehension or fairness. Yet he still allowed Miss Steele to stand her ground. It was strange but somehow refreshing.

Ana's smile widened and she entered the car as quickly as her petite body allowed her. It was better to get it on with, fast. She was actually anxious about this move. Through her rearview mirror she saw Taylor do the same. Without losing another second, she turned the key on the ignition and rejoiced when Wanda's motor came to life.

_Seattle, here I come_. She thought, as she turned the music up and pressed the gas pedal.

**xxxx**

Christian's foot tapped incessantly against the ground. For some reason he couldn't comprehend, he was nervous. Anxious even. He had never lived with someone other than his family, and especially never with a woman – whom he would eventually marry. Would she have any problems with the arrangements he had made? With the house? With how things ran?

_God_, it was infuriating to imagine all the things that could go wrong – there was a series of unfavorable outcomes he didn't want to dwell on, but didn't seem capable to avoid.

He glanced at his watch again. What was taking so long? Perhaps something had happened. But if that had been the case, then Taylor would have found a way to report it. Christian _knew_ allowing Anastasia to drive wasn't a good idea. He didn't want it. Taylor didn't sound too sure either. So why in the hell had he agreed to it? It seemed like that woman wouldn't back down from an argument and always managed to get the best out of him.

That notion aggravated Christian even more. He was grudgingly skulking on his own, in the quietness of his home office, when his phone vibrated on the heavy oak desk, efficiently interrupting his concentration. Quickly he retrieved the electronic advice from the middle of the sprawled documents and saw, with strange relief, it was a message from Taylor. They were arriving.

In a fraction of a second, he sprung to his feet and walked out of his office and onto the hallway. The elevator already awaited him. Christian was too impatient to stand still a minute longer. He punched the buttons harder than necessary and, within moments, was descending to the parking lot himself.

Just as he was stepping onto the open space of the park, two cars arrived. Well, if the first _thing_ could even be categorized as a car – mainly, it was just scrap-iron placed together in the form of an old and broken Volkswagen. The sight made Christian cringe inside. It wasn't even pleasant to look at it, let alone drive it. It had to be the most unsafe vehicle he had ever seen.

For a moment he considered that, maybe, whoever the driver was had made a mistake by turning towards _this_ building. A lousy, smoky Beetle wasn't the kind of automobile that was common within Escala's perimeters. The thing would probably blend perfectly in a junk, but not in a place that distinguished itself by class and opulence.

Yet, as the pallid cyanic death-trap came closer and closer to his stunned body, he was able to confirm that behind the wheel stood, indeed, his fiancée.

She parked the car quickly in the designated spot, and came out of it in a swift motion. She was nervous too. That realization calmed Christian a bit – he wasn't the only one feeling out of place. Taylor parked the SUV as well, and moved with his regular speed, retracting Anastasia's bag and reaching for the elevator.

"Mr. Grey." He greeted with a clipped tone and a short nod of his buzzed-cut hair.

"Taylor," Christian mumbled, still dumbstruck with the fact Ana had actually driven that piece of shit from Vancouver to Seattle. He recovered quickly, though. Turning sideways and glaring coldly at his security, he couldn't help but growl. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me _that_ was her car?"

Anastasia approached both men. Her hands were sweating and she fidgeted with them absently. She flinched when she heard Christian's tone. Was the man _always_ angry about something? Would she be able to live with such a person? Perhaps this whole arrangement had been a terrible, terrible idea.

Taylor, though, appeared completely unfazed. "I tried to, sir." He simply said as cordial as ever.

"That's not safe!" Christian insisted, a hand roaming through his wild hair. "For anyone! You could have caused an accident." He turned to the petite brunette, a murderous gaze on his steely eyes, as if the notion of her hurting others was the most haunting possibility that could ever cross his mind.

Anastasia recoiled and took a step back. "Well, I didn't." She wanted to sound strong and assured, but her voice was pathetic even to her own ears. _Intimidating-Christian was scary_.

"_Luckily_," He spat. His long, muscular legs began a quick stride towards the parked Beetle. He stopped close to it, unable to mask his undeniable disgust. "Is it even legal to drive _this_?"

His tone angered Anastasia. She was trembling inside – miserably so – but her indignation at having her mother's car insulted in such crude manner overpowered whatever fears she may have. She wouldn't stand still and have Carla's memories and possessions disrespected like that – Wanda might not be much, but it meant plenty.

She took some steps too, towards the hood of the car, facing Christian head-on. "For your information, it's perfectly legal and safe to drive _Wanda_," Somehow her index finger gained a life of its own and started to wave in the air menacingly. "Not all of us can afford to possess a harem of luxury cars, Christian."

Ana was exaggerating. She knew it. Hastily glancing around she ascertained the man only had three or four cars – she wasn't counting precisely – but that was beside the point.

Christian grew silent for a moment. He blinked unsure of what he had heard. He ignored the obvious insult and the aggravated baritone in his fiancée's voice, and instead focused on what had caught his attention. "_Wanda_?" He asked almost incredulously.

The brunette was rendered speechless too. She blushed the lightest shade of crimson and absently stretched her tiny hand, affectionately patting the hood of the car. "It's her name." She breathed, a cheeky smile spreading distractedly on her pink lips.

That attitude stunned Christian. _Her_ name? Why would an _automobile_, especially one as rusty as that one, have a pet-name? But, more importantly, why did her expression strangled the air out of his lungs? He realized he had never seen her smile. In the few meetings they had shared, Anastasia Steele had never even given him a ghost of a smirk, let alone a full grin.

That expression transformed her whole face. Her eyes became alive, the shade so bright it turned an electrical blue. Her skin glowed almost healthily. She looked… _pretty_. While Ana was smiling, Christian didn't notice her thin body or her untamed hair or her pale skin – he was drawn by those luscious, lewd lips.

When it became obvious he was just staring at her like a fool, Christian slapped himself mentally and growled in frustration. The nature of his thoughts perturbed him. He grabbed his hair savagely and walked away from the Beetle as if it was a predator ready to pounce on him, and he just _had_ to run away before it was too late for salvation.

"I don't want you to drive that thing." He barked while passing by Anastasia, not daring to meet her stare, in case she was still wearing that stupid smile on those damned lips.

"I don't really think you can –"

Christian held a hand in the air. Through his peripheral vision he noticed Ana's hand flying to her hip, her foot tapping the floor exasperatedly. He may not know her very well, but he knew the signs of resistance when he witnessed them. And in that moment, he wasn't feeling in the mood for a big argument. He just wanted to get the hell away from that woman before she could drive him even more aggravated.

"We'll talk about it later." He interrupted, his tone stern and authoritarian, though his voice was barely above a whisper. "Now, we should get you to settle in, yes?"

He managed to gain courage to gaze directly into her eyes. Anastasia took a step back seeing the intensity that was behind Christian's irises. It almost appeared as if he was daring her to do something – only she didn't know what.

She nodded. "Y-Yes…"

"Good."

Christian turned away and walked swiftly towards the elevator; Ana immediately mimicked his steps, her mind still swirling from all his moods swings. Taylor was already inside, quietly holding the metallic doors open.

He eyed their exchange curiously, though he maintained a professional posture the whole time. Anastasia Steele was certainly not what he was expecting when he was sent to pick his boss's fiancée, but the change was welcomed. The girl was tiny but had a feisty bone within her body. Her attitude was unpretentious – refreshing.

Whoever she was, she might just be what Mr. Grey needed.

**xxxx**

Wary eyes asserted the whole room. It was spacious – _more_ than spacious. It was the biggest bedroom Anastasia had ever set a foot inside. It was amazing and overwhelming at the same time. The brightness of the walls seemed to swallow her – she was out of place. Everything was classy and imposing, and she felt as if her scrawny body and threadbare bag were tainting the spotless division.

The color scheme revolved around various shades of white and light-grey. It gave a cold, clinical sensation to the room but Ana wasn't one to complain about finicky matters. Plus, the entire place could have been bereft of any kind of furniture and she would still fall in love with it, such was the beauty of the view. Floor-to-ceiling windows unfolded the busy life of Seattle right before her curious eyes.

It took her breath away.

Ana walked slowly towards the shinny glass and timidly traced its surface with her index finger. The sky was a rosy veil dissipating into the concrete mishmash of buildings, cars and peoples. It was such a different experience from her small and cozy haven back in Vancouver – she wondered if she would ever get used to it.

An unconscious and shy smile danced at the corners of her mouth. Regardless of her fears, Anastasia was fascinated – entranced. Being there, so high up, gazing down at the mundane display of life and agitation, completely transfixed her thoughts. It really was beautiful and, somewhat, peaceful.

Leaned against the doorframe, suspiciously eyeing his fiancée's reaction, Christian frowned. The little brunette was smiling again and he couldn't help but stare, bemused with her behavior. Not once, when he showed her the house, did Anastasia Steele rejoice about having moved into one of the most coveted penthouses in the whole city. In fact, she seemed rather uncomfortable with the obvious luxury.

And even now, of all things she could care about, she chose to get marveled with something as banal as the landscape the bedroom's windows gave access to. It was strange and unexpected. Christian was ready to deal with a power-hungered slut, who would drool over his possessions, but with a quiet, closed-off girl? He just didn't know how to act.

Throughout the whole time, Anastasia had been acting modestly. And _that_, messed with his brain. Could it really be that _he_ was wrong about her nature? Could it be that _he_ made a lapse in his judgment?

No, that was simply unconceivable. Christian Grey was, with all certainty, a great character's evaluator. Her attitude had to be an act – a scheme to warm his heart. That possibility made him groan in annoyance. Ana jumped, startled by the sound, and turned around quickly. She had completely forgotten about his presence.

"Is everything according to your tastes?" He asked politely though his voice was so cold, Anastasia's spine frozen while hearing it.

"Yes," She whispered lowly, unsure if she had shown any signs of displeasure that could have angered him.

"Good," He said, taking a step back, trying to put as much distance between their – already faraway – bodies as possible. "I'll let you settle in. If you need anything, just ask Gail – she'll probably be in the kitchen. I don't want to be disturbed."

"O-Okay…" _Why was he so upset?_ His tone was as sharp as a knife and Anastasia couldn't, for the love of God, understand what had put him in such a dark mood.

Christian nodded stiffly and turned around, ready to leave. He took a step, but then hesitated. Turning his head sideways, his gaze searched Ana's.

"Oh," He added dispassionately. "We'll attend a family dinner on Friday night. It's to announce our engagement."

Anastasia gulped. She faced the window again, unable to stand his raw and penetrating gaze a second longer. "So soon?" She squeaked almost in panic.

"I thought we both had agreed that a quick wedding was the best option." His voice rippled with irritation.

With a slow sigh, the brunette nodded. "Yes, of course," Indeed rapidness would be the best, she was just scared and quite unprepared to deal with the situation, but she would never admit that to Christian. "Friday sounds appropriate." Her words came out weak and hesitant.

She didn't have the stomach to witness Christian's reaction to her response. He simply walked away though. And she stood there, frozen, hearing the noise of his retracting steps fade-away into the quietness of the house.

_Friday_. That was just two days away.

Anastasia leaned her forehead against the chilly glass of the window and blew out a strangled breath. Everything was happening too fast – she wasn't used to this frenetic timetable. This lifestyle was new and unnerving. And the last thing she wanted was to meet the entire Grey family and announce this sudden and unexpected engagement in the space of two days.

_At least I get to see Grace again_. She tried to cheer herself up, but even the flimsy positive aspects couldn't subdue the negative ones.

"Well, there's no escaping now," She spoke to her own reflection on the window. "It's time to put the big girl panties on."

Anastasia could only hope the 'big-girl-panties' would serve as an amulet and give her the necessary strength to face the 180 degree spin her life was about to suffer.


	5. Crushing Weights

**5.**

**Crushing Weights**

Christian's eyes blinked stunningly in a succession of rapid movements. His mouth opened but no sound came out, the vocal cords on his throat tied in sailor knots. He closed his lips tightly and darted his gaze between the opened closet and the petite brunette that stood confused before him. He knew the space was naturally big, but with only a dozen of flimsy hangers occupying it, it appeared to escalate to another dimension altogether.

Finally, he recovered. "That's _all _the clothes you have?" His tone had a hint of accusation though he wasn't deliberately trying to be mean. He was just too stupefied. Could women even possess so little outfits?

Anastasia bit her lip and eyed the closet suspiciously – just to make sure everything was in its rightful place. Indeed, it was strange to look at such vast space but she wasn't a very materialistic person to begin with, and even if she desired to have a full and diverse wardrobe, she didn't have the monetary means to afford such extravagancies.

"Yes, it is."

"Hmm," Christian's finger rubbed his stubbled chin, thoughtfully. They stood there, wrapped up in a thick silence for a few minutes. He snapped out of his trance when Ana took a step forward and sat gingerly on the bed. She was observing him curiously, her head crooked to the side. "Well, I think we need to go shopping." He announced.

"For what?"

"For an outfit." He coached calmly. "For tomorrow. I think you need something to dress at our engagement announcement."

Anastasia crossed her arms at her chest and straightened her spine. "I have clothes." She said defensively.

"Inappropriate clothes, yes," He conceived. "But our dinner party it's an important event. You're my fiancée, you need to look the part."

"We have already established I don't want or _need_ you to buy me expensive and unnecessary things. I'll be able to buy new clothes, if I decide such is required, after I get a job." Her voice was stern. She didn't wish to have yet another discussion about this matter. Plus, she did have a dress – a piece of clothing she used only in especial occasions, which meant she practically never wore it at all.

Christian grew quiet for a moment. His feet gained a rhythm of their own and he started to pace the room smoothly. "But, if I recall correctly, _you_ agreed that I would pay for the wedding and anything related to that. I believe 'engagement announcement' it's intimately related to the wedding itself."

Anastasia wanted to contest but refrained from objecting right away. He did have a point – she _had _agreed to it. It was on their contract. And she was already feeling so out of place, did she really wanted to attend her own dinner party in a Walmart purple dress? The Greys were beyond rich. Everyone would probably wear designer ensembles capable of paying half of her previous debts. If she arrived there in such an _un_-styled outfit, she would stand out more than giant elephant trying to do ballet. Was she ready to deal with that kind of attention? To have slanting gazes judging her personality based on the cloths she had around her body?

Anastasia knew Grace wasn't like that. Christian's mother wasn't one to build prejudices around frivolous matters, but she couldn't know how the rest of the guests would act. Plus, according to her own fiancé, there were going to be present some family friends as well.

She wanted the marriage to look real – for Grace's sake. So, perhaps she had to admit she did need a little hand; she did need to look the part. With a sigh, she unfolded her arms and smoothed the fabric of her jeans.

"Okay," Ana breathed after a while. "You're right."

Christian's head jerked back. His jaw dropped slightly. "I'm… right?" He asked unsure. That, he _wasn't_ expecting.

"Yes," The girl nodded softly, pushing a lock of dark hair out of her face. "Perhaps I need something a little better to wear at the dinner. It is an important announcement we're going to make, after all."

"Yes…" Christian murmured, still stunned with her yielding. "It is important." His voice dropped and they stood there, again involved in silence, only this time they were gazing directly into each others' eyes. She was so much easier to deal with this way, he concluded, when she didn't try to fight him at every turn.

"Will you give me the… money?" The word came out as a choked breath. It didn't seat well with Ana receiving his money, or his credit card, and go spend away his fortune.

"No." Christian tousled his own hair with his right hand and walked towards the door. "I'll come too. You might need help."

If he meant that as an insult, Anastasia didn't feel offended in the slightest. In fact, she was relieved that he was going shopping with her. Having to go alone would be too hard and complicated. At least this way she had company and an opinion.

She smiled contently and got up as well. "Okay, that's good."

Her reaction wasn't what Christian expected – _yet again_. He imagined she would get head over heels with the possibility of spending his money all on her own, but instead she was pleased to have him escorting her. What game was Anastasia Steele playing?

He stared at her mouth for a while, before recovering and turning away. Every time she smiled, he still got amazed – it was such an astonishing change. She would look plain and then _bam!_ a stretch of her full lips and every feature in her face would suffer a metamorphose.

_Stop thinking about it_, he chastised himself. He walked towards the living-room, feeling Ana's steps right behind him. When they got there, he mumbled something about having to make a call before going out. She nodded and started to wander through the space. It was strange, seeing someone new roaming through his house. Christian observed her for a moment, before sliding inside his office and taking his phone.

"Taylor," He spoke as a way of greeting. "Anastasia and I will go downtown for some shopping. I'll take the R8. I won't be home for a couple of hours. Call me only if something of extreme urgency arises."

"Of course, sir. Have a nice trip." Taylor responded through the other end of the line.

Christian didn't bother answering back. Instead he disconnected the call and sat down on his chair for a while, thinking things through. How would they act tomorrow at the dinner? His family knew he was going to bring a date, but they had no idea his 'date' was already engaged to him. The interrogation both his fiancée and him were about to suffer would be certainly secret-services' worthy.

Would _anyone_ believe? Would his siblings believe? Would his friends believe? And, more importantly, would Grace believe?

Anastasia Steele was a far-stretch from all the women he used to date. Unsophisticated, guileless, inexperienced, unrefined, plain, unschooled – she was definitely way under the league he played in. It was so implausible that he would grow an interest in her. And especially an interest that drove him into _proposing_ to the girl.

Perhaps she could scrub well. Perhaps he could polish the sharp edges and maybe get Ana to, at least, appear decent; decent enough for him. With a sigh and a rub of his tired eyes, he got up, picked up his belongings, stuffed them in his pockets, and swirled the Audi's keys in his finger.

_Let's do this_, he thought while stepping into the living-room again.

Anastasia got up from the white couch at once when she spotted movement coming from the right. Indeed, Christian stood there, lazily toying with some keys, an absent look on his eyes. She straightened her spine and decided to ask what was bugging her mind. She wanted equality in their relationship, after all.

"So," She started, biting her lower lip. His eyes strained on her mouth. "Should we take my car or yours?"

Christian's eyes closed for a second. He drew a breath. His mouth twisted in some sort of facial acrobatics. She took a step back, involuntarily, sure that he was about to unleash his fury on being asked such a silly question. But, to her utter surprise, he did no such thing. Instead, he laughed.

The sound was foreigner and startled Anastasia at first. It was so unexpected. But he kept going – his guffaws rich and deep, his eyes glinting with mirth. She couldn't help but smile too, though she had no idea what he had found so amusing to begin with.

After a moment, Christian cleaned a lone tear that escaped his narrowed eyes. He inhaled sharply to calm himself. "Oh," He breathed, still panting. "That was funny, Anastasia. Really funny. I'll give you that."

Ana frowned, but managed to keep a crooked smile on her lips. _What_ was funny? She didn't know, but didn't want to ruin his rare good-mood either.

"Do you have everything you need?" He asked.

She nodded simply and patted her pockets, symbolizing she had barely anything to carry around, expect for her own ID and her old mobile.

"Well then," Christian turned sideways and gave her a _non-hostile_ glance, for once. That was refreshing. "Follow me."

**xxxx**

Anastasia bit her lip and twirled in front of the mirror again. There was a perpetual frown on her features ever since she entered the shop and the saleslady stuffed her arms with all kinds of dresses; stuff she would have never picked up had she been her own.

This one in particular was a silky fabric that glistened with the light's reflection. It reached her knees and seemed somewhat shapeless against her petite body. She didn't like it, but then again, she hadn't liked any of the others outfits she had tried on.

The saleswoman barged inside the dressing-room without bothering to warn first. She had already learned that if she allowed Ana to stay too long inside the room all alone, the girl would talk herself out of the dress and change into something else without showing it first.

"Oh," The woman, whose nametag read Janine, clasped her hands together and plastered a reassuring smile on her scarlet lips. "That's such a lovely number. It looks amazing against your alabaster skin."

Anastasia almost snorted but managed to hold it back. Janine was only trying to be polite and professional – she needed to sell the clothes, after all. But 'alabaster' wasn't an adjective she had ever heard regarding her paleness. Washed-out, pasty, spectral – those were the kinds of comparisons she was used to receive. Plus, 'amazing' would be a very loose term to apply when describing how the outfit looked on her; acceptable would be the correct one.

"What's taking so long?" Only the booming, and rather bored, voice of Christian snapped the little brunette out of her musings. Quickly she stepped out of the fitting-room, turning around in the process, looking directly into his eyes, trying to gauge his reaction.

Christian was seated on a dark, cushioned chair that resembled a throne and somehow went along with his ethereal and majestic beauty. His appearance was flawless, even in a plain black t-shirt and washed-off jeans, and Anastasia envied his ability to look so good with so little effort.

"What do you think, Mr. Grey?" Janine asked chirpily, a hopeful tone laced in her voice. This was the eighth dress they were trying on. "Doesn't she look delightful?"

A long, thoughtful finger rubbed his chin for a minute. His clouded eyes narrow by a fraction as his gaze swept up and down Ana's body unabashedly. She should feel ashamed at being observed so throughout – or, at the very least, self-conscious. But Christian's scrutiny was absolutely sharp and distant. He really just wanted her to find a good outfit.

"You look like a runaway nun. One that has never left the convent before." He addressed Anastasia heads-on. His tone was serious too.

Janine flinched and grimace at Mr. Grey's lack of sensitivity. She grew upset for two very distinct motives. The first being the fact that the man comfortably sat on the armchair, looking boring and sinful as hell, was colder than the Artic. The second concerning the issue that they still hadn't settled on a dress, and she was obviously failing as a saleswoman.

Anastasia's eyes widened. She turned towards the mirror again. The curtains of the room were left completely opened and she was graced with her awkward stance, Janine's worried face, and Christian's unnerving stare, all reflecting back at her.

Janine thought the girl would breakdown and cry any minute now. Mr. Grey hadn't been very nice with his opinions. But shockingly enough, the girl _giggled_. The sound took her by surprise. It took Christian too, if his dropped-jaw was any indication. He didn't mean to offend anyone by blurting out what his true opinions, regarding the outfits Ana had tried on, were – he simply spoke what was on his mind – but he wasn't counting on having his fiancée finding them funny either.

"I do, don't I?" The brunette asked, another giggle escaping her mouth.

The corners of Christian's mouth twitched. He smiled unconsciously. "Well, it wouldn't be my first choice, no." He complied smoothly, his tone light and so unlike himself. "I don't think black suits very well."

"It looks like I've never seen sunlight in my life." Anastasia added, twirling the hem of the dress in her hands.

A husky chuckle filled the air completely. Janine thought she would melt – _such a sexy sound_. Ana, though, simply smiled wider, relieved to see her fiancé in such great-spirits. "Perhaps if you were dressing up for Halloween and wanted to be vampiric school-girl." He continued.

"Damn," She cursed merrily. "I _do_ look undead. Maybe I could be part of the cast in one of those Zombie TV shows."

Christian leaned forward in his seat and laughed deeply. Anastasia joined in, deciding to swirl her body in an inelegantly fashion in front of the big mirror. Janine fidgeted in her place; where they making fun of her picks? She was afraid she would lose them soon if she didn't find something more suitable to their tastes.

"_Ehm_," The saleslady coughed awkwardly, stepping between them two. "Perhaps we should try on another outfit. I have just the right piece. If you –"

"No." Christian's body jerked up from the seat. He had had enough of that store – clearly they weren't going to find anything suitable there. His height was truly impressive, it towered so easily both women. "We'll leave now." He stated sharply before turning away and walking towards the exit.

Janine's mouth contorted in disappointment and resentment. Anastasia's smile dropped her lips too, and she stood there in a sympathetic silence, feeling bad for the woman. She used to deal with the public as well, and she knew all too well how rude costumers could be sometimes.

"Uhn, I guess we'll leave… Janine." She started, retrieving back stiffly. "Thank you for your help. The dresses just, er, aren't what we're looking for." She closed the curtain of the dressing-room quickly and changed back to her normal attire in less than a second.

The brunette sneaked out of the store as fast and inconspicuously as she could muster. Perhaps they shouldn't have been making fun of the clothes in front of the saleswoman. It had been slightly rude. And inconsiderate. But Christian had been so carefree, so different from his usually restrict self, that Ana couldn't really bring herself to mind. So what, if they had mocked the stupid dress? He had _laughed – _again – and that made it absolutely worth it.

The man, himself, was standing stoically in front the store. And even despite his statuesque posture, his attitude was almost relaxed. Ana walked up to him hastily. She was ready to let him have a piece of her mind, show him how impolite he had been, but just when she was about to reach him, Christian spun on his heels and the smirk on his face made hers plans vanish into thin air.

"Shall we try another store?" He asked instead, his voice the epitome of smoothness.

"Y-Yes," She muttered thrown-off balance. Could this guy be any more mercurial? One day he's brooding and the next he's joking; one minute he's abruptly leaving the store and the next he's smirking as if he had just been enjoying the beautiful day. How was one capable of keeping up with him?

With a swift nod of his head, Christian gestured for her to follow him. Anastasia thought that perhaps they would get back to the car and drive towards some other fancy street with high-end shops that she had never even heard off, but surprisingly they just crossed the street and came about a little boutique that held an air of refinement and luxury.

He didn't lose a second entering the place but the girl stood a minute longer outside, admiring the black façade with bold and golden letters. _Midnight Dusk_. It seemed fitting to the ambiance of the store.

Once inside, Anastasia let her eyes adjust to the dim lighting. The space wasn't very large, but it was cozy. Soft music played in the background. It was unlike any place she had ever gone shopping before. She was enjoying it plenty, but that feeling quickly dissipated as soon as a woman showed up, smiling slyly and looking lustily at _her_ fiancé.

"Good-afternoon," The fiery redhead purred, a slender finger trailing the base of her own throat. Ana gulped. That woman was gorgeous, and clearly a master at seduction games. "I'm Miriam Standers. Welcome to my shop," She breathed lowly, her emerald eyes glinting with mischief. It was obvious the reception wasn't directed towards the little brunette. In fact, the curvaceous woman hadn't even spared the girl a single glance.

"I'm Christian Grey –" He started, but was immediately interrupted.

"It's a _pleasure_ to meet you, Mr. Grey."

_Is this what flirting is like?_ Anastasia thought grimily.

But if _that_ was flirting, it didn't seem to sort any kind of effect because Christian simply extended his hand and grabbed his fiancée's elbow, pulling her towards him, forcing her to stand at his side. Their height difference seemed even greater when they were paired like that.

"And this is Anastasia Steele." He finished pointedly. His tone was bored and lifeless. Whatever Miriam's techniques at seducing were, they were obviously failing.

Miriam's lips curved in a distasteful grin. The playfulness in her eyes disappeared almost immediately. "Miss Steele," She all but sneered, trying to be polite but not quite managing it. The acknowledgement didn't last long, as she turned towards Christian once again. "Do you need any help?" She asked softly, eyelashes batting so fiercely Anastasia could almost feel the breeze they created.

"No." The response was cold and sharp, but it didn't come from Christian. Instead, it came boldly from the little brunette that stood next to him with both hands placed on her hips.

And just like that, _she_ grabbed Christian's hand and marched right into some random section. Miriam stood at the entrance, a grimace on her pretty face – no one spared her another glance.

Anastasia stopped abruptly in front of some hangers. The color scheme on that section was light – whites mostly. She didn't have the slightest clue of _what_ exactly she should be searching for. Fashion wasn't her forte, after all. She just knew she didn't want to spend another second in front of that hussy redhead.

It wasn't that she didn't know her future husband would have extra-marital affairs. Hell, she had _agreed_ to it. But having other women thrown themselves at him while she was standing within two feet was purely distasteful and left a bad taste in her mouth. She wasn't romantically involved with the man, but she was worthy of respect nonetheless.

The man himself didn't notice or simply didn't care. Either way he abided by Anastasia's wishes and followed her, stopping only when she did.

They stood there, silently watching the row of expensive clothes for a while, before Ana regained consciousness and let go of his hand as if it burned. Well, it kind of did. His touch burned like ice.

"Well…" She started. "Let's see," Her frail hand darted towards the fabrics and she traced the tip of her fingers over the pieces. She really had no idea what to look for, so she decided to take the first thing that caught her eye.

It was a white, shimmery écharpe so big it reached her feet. It was quite extravagant. And useless – in her case – but she decided to wrapped it tightly around her body, from her head to her legs. Christian's eyebrows rose curiously.

_Why was she tangling herself in a scarf? _Before he could ask, though, Anastasia slid towards the first full-length mirror that appeared, and stared hard at her own reflection.

"Maybe if the runaway nun act doesn't work out, I can always be a… tissue paper?" Her voice was serious but there was a mischievous smile on her lips.

Her silly performance sorted the effect she was looking for: Christian laughed. _Yet again_. It really was a breathtaking sound – the kind they write about in those awfully romantic and unrealistic novellas. It made her giggle too.

"Because being a ghost is too mainstream," She explained.

"Of course," Christian mused, entertained. For the first time since they met, he wasn't looking at her like he resented her very existence. In fact, he appeared curious, interested. It fuelled a bit of her confidence to think maybe perhaps they could co-exist peacefully with each other.

For the next half an hour the fake couple explored the boutique in search for the most ridiculous pieces of clothing they could find. Anastasia kept trying on absurd hats, dresses, scarfs, jackets and even sunglasses. Most of the outfits were given to her by her fiancé, nonetheless. He was enjoying their own stupidity very much.

Christian Grey had never done something so juvenile. Growing up he had always been a serious child, and as an adult he was even _more_ serious. So acting so blithely was unexpected and unthinkable – and yet he was actually savoring the experience.

Before this, he could tag shopping as one of the most boring and despairing activities one could perform. Anytime he had done it with Grace and Mia, he simply stood there, leaned against some wall or seated in some recliner, eyeing the ceiling and praying they _wouldn't_ take another hour just to pick up some shoes. It was a burden. It made him cringe inside.

He was mentally prepared to have a replay of those memories today with Anastasia, but just like every time before, the girl surprised him with her attitude. To start, she had no fashion sense. It was even worse than his. She had no clue what she was doing. Then, she got fatigued as well. It appeared that trying clothes, taking them off, trying new ones, taking them off – just wasn't something she rejoiced in doing. And finally, she didn't get offended if _he_ made fun of the outfits. Hell, she was making fun of them too.

It was a technique both were using to stall the difficult chore of actually finding a suitable dress – something they were failing miserably to accomplish.

Christian spotted a weird-looking necklace, resting against the cold chest of a mannequin. It was large and made of extravagantly big stones. It was heavy too, and he wondered briefly if anyone who was not made of granite could actually wear it wouldn't damaging their spine. Regardless, he picked it up and brought it to Anastasia, who was still wearing a rather silly hat.

"Seriously, this hat is so big it can cast a shadow over my whole body." She said, crooking a neck slightly to stare at her own reflection.

"Here," He said, coming closer behind her. "Try this, just to experience the feeling of having a chain-ball around your neck."

Ana took off the hat and placed it aside. She eyed the necklace suspiciously. It actually looked like a chain-ball, except the balls on this one were colored exotically. It seemed heavy but she decided to try it nonetheless. It was kind of ridiculously sizable.

Christian took a step forward and stood mere inches from her body. The hairs of her neck got immediately erect. He was so close – too close. His chest was almost touching her back, and it was such a distracting position. When he was near her, it seemed the air gained an electrical charge and she couldn't breathe properly. It was stupid really, _why would she feel like this_? But she felt it, and there was nothing that could stop her hands from trembling slightly at her sides.

He didn't seem to notice. Or perhaps he simply didn't care at all, that they were so close. And why would _he_ care, anyway? Her presence sorted no effect on him, except sometimes, it seemed like it disgust him.

Distractedly, one of his long hands brushed the dark hair off her shoulders. Surprisingly enough, it was a gentle gesture. It felt like the lightest of feathers, and she fought a shiver. When her messy strands were out of the way, he hastily placed the heavy balls against her collarbones and tied it up at the nape of her neck.

Anastasia stared unblinkingly at the necklace in the mirror. Just like she had anticipated, it was quite the uncomfortable weight. Her eyes lifted up, though, slowly towards Christian's face. He had an amused expression on his face and his gaze was admiring the unpracticality of the jewelry as well. She observed him for a while, but soon her eyes couldn't help but dart towards her shoulders.

_There_, over pale skin of her body, rested Christian Grey's hands. His tone was slightly tanned, a whole lot healthier than hers. It was a sharp contrast to witness. It was the first time he was touching her deliberately, even though he didn't seem to notice it. And Ana was beginning to grow uneasy. Her mind was getting clogged. The warmth of his touch was spreading like wildfire through the rest of her limbs. It burned like a furnace.

Christian's silvery eyes narrow when he felt his petite fiancée tremble beneath him. He was too distracted with the ugly necklace to notice what was happening, but as soon as his gaze followed hers, he saw _it_ too. His hands were still resting against her frail shoulders. And her skin was cold and smooth, an unexpected combination. It made his fingers tingle with the raw sensation.

For the briefest of moments, Anastasia's eyes met Christian's in the mirror. Their gazes didn't stand locked for more than some flimsily seconds, but it was enough for the girl to witness first-hand the transformation that occurred behind his beautiful irises.

From playful and amused, his eyes reverted back to steely and closed-off. His hands jerked upwards and he took a quick step back as if something had bit him painfully.

"I guess neither of us is indicated for this," His hand waved around the air, gesturing to the hangers and the shelves full of clothes. "Clearly, fashion isn't our specialty. I'll call a personal stylist to come and help you tomorrow. There's no point in wandering through more stores. Let's go."

His voice was back to his normally restrict, cold self. No more lightness and laughter – only business and orders now.

Anastasia sighed deeply and nodded. "Yeah, I guess we aren't cut for this." She agreed, adverting her gaze anywhere else. Christian was too intense. She untied the necklace and placed it next to the stupid hat she had tried on before.

He didn't wait for her to follow. He simply gave her a pointed look that told her not to take too long, turned around, and walked out of the store without sparing another glance.

She mimicked his steps, and started towards the exit too. Passing by the counter Ana noticed that Miriam stood there, a smug smile plastered on her scarlet lips. It was as if the hussy shop-owner knew something had gone wrong with the two of them and was savoring that piece of knowledge.

She refused to succumb to the redhead's hatred stare though, and instead walked out of the boutique with her head held high. Once she got outside, she was greeted by a cold, welcoming breeze. Christian was a few feet away, talking on the phone, completely disconnected from their time together.

Anastasia sighed again. Amused-Christian was so much easier to deal with. Plus, he was fun and a nice company too. Now she _just_ knew she would have to endure a torturously silent ride home with a brooding man that drove manically his fancy car.

He turned when he spotted her on the sidewalk and ended his phone-call stiffly. "Are you ready?" He asked.

_No. _She wanted to scream, but held it together. Tomorrow she would meet his family, his friends. Tomorrow she would see Grace again, lie to a bunch of strangers, and get publicly engaged – all in the same day.

She wasn't the least ready for it.

"Yes," Anastasia lied instead, trying to convey a false confidence she could only hope it passed as somewhat believable.

* * *

**A/N:** So, just a heads-up, next chapter we'll meet Claire – who is not someone from the books, but a woman I made up from my own imagination – and she'll be Christian's previous lover. Claire will be at their engagement dinner because she is Mia's friend. It won't be pleasant for Anastasia, that's all I'm saying.

Anyway, thank you for reading! I'm totally in love with you guys!


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